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Dear FuHu, I know what you’re doing with the hints and suggestions. Maybe you loved Showgirls or that terrible movie with Demi Moore or that other one with Carmen Electra. Or, like Apollo in Real Housewives of Atlanta your second home is the strip club. I know what you want but, it’s not going to happen. Yes, I naked lounge dance but that’s not sexy. That’s a celebration of emotion. Please, let’s not confuse them.

I was thinking about you yesterday as I came home late from a boring meeting. I don’t know if it was the sun shiny day or that exhilarated madness one feels just before they slump into fatigue but, suddenly I imagined stripping for you. I wanted to please you because I know you would like that. I was listening to something sexy on the ipod. I think it was noughties Christina Aguilera. Yeah, I know you secretly like her even if you pretend otherwise. So the moment was right. I was going to do this!

I was wearing a summer dress and ballet slippers. I figured that I’d keep the earrings and wig on as unpinning it would just waste time and there was less than 2 minutes of the song left. Besides, I wasn’t getting ready to fight you. This was a seduction.

All seemed to be going well. I was dancing and maintaining eye contact. Yes, I was practising in the mirror. I did the skirt lift up as I knew that the dress was never going to slide down the Charlize Theron way. I thought I was prepared. I stroked my thighs like the girls in the videos and lifted the skirt to my waist, keeping to the rhythm. Well, barely. I was lipsyncing and trying to look sexy all at the same time. I know that they say women can multitask but this, this was dancing, singing, undressing and trying to look sexy (not sick) all at once. Challenging doesn’t begin to describe it. I did a shimmy move to get the shoes off then nearly tripped over them a beat later. You know I’m clumsy. It’s a left footed thing.

Then, and I didn’t see this coming, the dress got stuck. It wouldn’t lift upwards. Someone had forgotten to loosen the string belt that gives waistless people a waist. I stopped to undo the strings a little, caught the beat back and resumed sexy. Then it wouldn’t slide over my boobs. How the fuck do strippers do this for a living? I stood there for 15 seconds trying to disentangle myself from the dress, the ipod and the unsexiest pose ever whilst trying not to lose the beat. By the time I had done the song was over and the moment had passed. The strip tease was just a headache. I even missed the key change moment where I’d planned to give you a twirl and over the shoulder come to bed look. But my neck is sore.

And this is why I don’t’ strip. Please understand that I’m just not built for it. But, I’m happy for you to have a go. *goes off to find Joe Cocker CD* there you go. Leave your hat on but make sure you take off the socks, yeah?

Love,

Your FuWi

P.S. I think you should cancel the stripper pole. I saw it in your browser history. We’re not ready for that sort of commitment to sexy.

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Why kill a crush? A crush is a warm delicious secret you hold dear to you in which you’re a size 8, they are available and you live happily ever after. You can ignore the fact that he doesn’t know who you are or that you’re in a relationship with a workaholic. Crushes are pure escapism. There comes a time in every young or old crushee’s life when the crush must die.

But alas, sometimes you have to kill this protagonist of your imagination and move on. It’s harsh my precious but be brave. Here are my 5 ways to kill a crush

1) Tell the crush that they’re your crush.

I do the whole confessional crush thing. The look of horror was enough to tell me that not only was the feeling not mutual but the thought appalled him. Nothing kills a crush quicker than knowing the person doesn’t even feel flattered by your crush. The other time I recall the crush target seized the opportunity to rinse social outings out of me. After a while people thought we were dating as we were always together but I was but a lowly social secretary. That realisation killed the crush. Their response will determine if the crush can survive.

2) Find out about the real person behind your crush

So he’s cute and he said something vaguely insightful once. It’s all a little Frank Churchill in Emma when really you want Mr Knightley. What do you really know about your crush? I had a crush die recently when I found out that all of his plans were just pipe dreams. He’s now engaged to an average girl stuck in an average job. Where was the man who talked of reaching for the stars only 2 years ago? Where did his dreams go and are they lost in the same place as his gym membership? It’s the little things my precious. The potty belly and the empty talk.

3) Fast forward your crush

Is your crush a now crush? Does he look like Idris Elba or whomever is the in celebrity of the time? What do you think he’ll look like in 25 years time? Chances are imagining your crush in their 50s and 60s isn’t going to bring you visions of Larry Lamb. Is he possibly a fat Marlon Brandon? Don’t take risks my precious. Your crush needs to have the genes for longevity. A fair weather crush must by definition be short and die after a season or when the TV show ends.

4) Get a new crush

Ah yes, the best way to get over one crush is to get under another. In fact, I’m an advocate of having more than one crush at a time. They all reside in different countries or postcodes so that I can keep tags on them and none of them can get jealous….in my head.

5) Start dating

A controversial one indeed but often when you’re bogged down with actual relationship issues such as blanket hogging, missing toilet rolls and eating food fast enough to finish your plate you need a crush as a distraction. But when you’re dating you don’t have the time in between spa sessions and shopping for new ensembles to maintain the cyber stalking that a crush demands. So getting a real man can get rid of the fantasy one. And who knows, you may find a date that sticks around long enough to annoy you back into crushing.

Best of luck my precious and remember, a crush is something you control. If it’s not working for you anymore crush it and move on.

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I love this movie despite duck lip monotone Taye Diggs because it’s all about a woman who fell in love with Hip Hop. She took that passion and turned it into her work. She took that work and turned it into a book. And yes eventually (spoiler alert) she accepts that he is intrinsically linked to her relationship to Hip hop but that’s just so that they could label the movie a romantic comedy.

Side note – it wasn’t funny unless we are talking about the constant jokes about her massager from Brookestones? Or maybe it’s just me. It was just a black rom.

So anyway the reason I bring it up is because after a long breakup I’ve recently fallen back in love with RnB. As I was saying I wasn’t raised on fairy tales. As a black girl there were no images of black folk in film or TV until The Cosby Show and Different World came along. No instead we had music. So much delicious music on vinyl that you could play again and again.

I started to dream that life was perfect in the states. I grew up listening to my Father’s collection of records which were heavily sexual RnB. It was Marvin Gaye, Clarence Carter, Curtis Mayfield and all the big names of Motown. I was told off for singing ‘sexual healing’ on my way to a first day at a new school. Then they had to console me as they told me that he was dead. I didn’t know anyone who had died at 7 but clearly I felt like these American artists were part of my family.

At 10 I stole the inside LP cover for Lionel Richie’s Round and Round album and memorised it in class. Let’s face it the British schooling system gives children WAAAAY too much free time.

At senior school I was the only child in class who knew the answer to Gladys Knight’s back up group was the Pips. Don’t ask me to name any of The Who or Led Zeplin though. I pretended that I had long hair like Jermaine Stewart as I sang ‘We don’t have to take our clothes off’. And don’t even get me started on Whitney. Those that know me know that she was the older sister I never had.

I watched Get off by Prince and I tried to make the pearly dress for a night out. Or was it Cream?

As I got older and discovered boys I was enveloped in a world of Shai, Blackstreet, Tevin Campbell, Boyz II Men, Silk, H Town, Brian McKnight, Joe and all of these beautiful black male voices. I fell for it. I fell for the happy ever after these songs promised.

Then I discovered that nearly every guy I knew who was aged 16 – 25 had a “get the panties” mix tape of these songs and they were using them to get the panties. Just as I wizened up music changed and was less about sensual sex and was more about fucking. So that is when I fell out of love with it. If we were just going to fuck then give me rock. At least that already sounds aggressive and angry. Why did they have to ruin soul music? Oh I’ve had the odd affair with Robin Thicke, Ne-yo etc but loving a genre like I did for 20 odd years? No. I’ve gone down an eclectic route.

So maybe they lied. No fairy tale tells you what happens after Cinderella and the prince discovered that he wasn’t a big fan of her cooking or wanted a 3 way with one of her ugly sisters. (Shrug – Men and boobs). Maybe I was expecting too much from these songs? They are but less than 4 minutes of perfection. Sadly sometimes longer than sex but that’s a whole other blog.

So a toast to RnB and long may it give hope to those who don’t have love stories around them. Ever wondered why those Back to the 90s nights are so big? Because that’s when many of us women still dared to dream. That’s why. It’s just a shame so many of us stopped daring.